The Girl Who Refused to Be Broken

larships, Ivy League, that was my mantra, my only way out of this blue-col

ought, sat across from me at the library t

ok so easy, Sar

dad, Arthur, was stressed, and her mom, Carol, who did the books, looked perpetually wor

Bree," I said, tryi

have an idea, a study retreat, just us. My family has this o

d up there, tough as nails. Grandma Agnes, she ran their little corner of the county with an iron will and a network of folks who respected, and maybe feared,

ountains than I'd ever been. The "cabin" wa

tle of water after we hauled our b

ng I remembered was Bree' s s

tank of mildew and something else, something sour. Thi

h stringy hair peered dow

His son, Cletus, a grimy young man wi

?" I croaked,

n, cackled. "Your fri

n? Where am I?"

er. "You're with us

doorway then, her f

on?" I tried to sit

e flat. "All your perfect scores, your scholarships. My

cold. "What

a few hundred bucks and that beat-up sn

Cletus. "She

lent, desperate NO. This couldn't be happening. My future, my Iv